


One Night in Virginia

by InchByInch



Series: Holy Nights [2]
Category: Homeland
Genre: Advent Calendar, Apologies, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Holiday Peace, Holiday Stress, Love, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: Carrie is late for mass on Christmas Eve.  How will Maggie react?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set a few months after the end of season 4. Dar and Haqqani never made a deal, and so Carrie does not leave the CIA. This story is the second part in a series. You don't have to read the first story, just know that Carrie helped get Quinn out of Syria earlier, rather than later, but she does not know that she was successful.

_Silent night, holy night…_

Maggie tried to let the peace of the song seep into her as she breathed in the scent of the hundreds of small hand-held candles that lit up the dark church for this final hymn of the Christmas Eve service. 

In the past hour, she’d already wept with grief for her father, still fresh all these months after his death. She’d stilled her frantic checklist in an attempt to experience the holiness of the moment. She had focused her mind on gratitude for her husband and daughters. Now, she wanted to spend these last few moments of the service thinking about her sister. Carrie has been to hell and back multiple times in the past 24 months, and Maggie had felt helpless in the face of Carrie’s suffering. First of all, because sometimes all you can do is love someone and let them experience their pain, and second of all, because Carrie’s problems were literally classified. 

Of course, Maggie knew about the bombing at Langley, so many co-workers dead. But she didn’t find out about her sister’s pregnancy until halfway through the second trimester, and she never got the full story of what happened Franny’s father. She knew the official story of the redhead who’d had Carrie fired and hospitalized. He was a prisoner of war turned congressman, turned terrorist, turned traitor, and Maggie had read everything written about what happened in Iran – enough to know that she would never really know what had happened in Iran. But she did know what happened next. Carrie shut down, pretended that Franny didn’t exist, and then left. Next came the embassy attack, and honestly, Maggie kept forgetting about that. It must have been harrowing, not to mention the grief and the guilt. And then right at that same time, Dad.

But the maybe worst thing, Maggie thought, came after. That nice Peter Quinn who was so sweet at the funeral, who Maggie had seen kissing Carrie in the street, he must have gone back overseas, or maybe even died. Maggie’s intuition told her that it was that loss, or whatever that loss symbolized to Carrie, that had triggered an intense depressive episode. In some important ways, however, Carrie demonstrated uncharacteristic coping skills, and Maggie wondered what that might have to do with Peter Quinn as well. Carrie managed to pull herself out of it with sheer determination, following strategies she had developed over years of on-and-off therapy, mostly during in-patient stays. She was finally becoming a real honest-to-goodness mother to Franny, and she seemed to be finding a path that combined professional fulfillment, self-care, and motherhood. Carrie was struggling, but succeeding, and Maggie felt awfully proud.

All these thoughts about Carrie had a deliberate purpose. Maggie was trying really hard to contain her irritation with her sister for missing the entire service. Something had happened at work last week that put Carrie in the doghouse, and she had to work today – on Christmas Eve – an obligation that had spilled over into the time allotted for the children’s Christmas Eve Mass at church. Josie was an angel and Ruby was a donkey in the nativity pageant, and it would have been nice for their aunt to see it. Maggie briefly wondered whether Carrie might have just lied, in order to avoid her family, but she knew her sister had grown beyond that type of behavior. 

And that’s why it came to pass, with one verse left in “Silent Night,” that Maggie smiled at Carrie when she finally slipped into the end of the pew. Work obligations were not Carrie’s fault. Her career kept others safe. “I’m glad to see you, Merry Christmas.”  
_______

“I’m glad to see you, Merry Christmas.” God, her sister’s sarcasm was the last thing Carrie needed after all the shit Dar had arranged for her to shovel this week. She just wanted to feel a moment’s peace in the last remaining hymn. “Silent Night” was her favorite; surely the music would soothe her anxious spirit.

All too soon, Carried found herself in the car with Maggie, headed back to Carrie’s condo where she was hosting Maggie’s family for a Christmas Eve celebration. Every year, Marvelous Maggie did it all, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, every perfect fucking holiday, complete with tasteful decorations and delicious food, all seemingly without effort. This year, however, in honor of Carrie’s new status as a “mother” (and Carrie’s new determination to be a better person), Carrie was having Maggie’s family over on Christmas Eve after church. The plan was to eat a casual dinner in the living room while the girls decorated Carrie’s Christmas tree. Right after church, Carrie and Maggie left with Franny to get things ready, while Bill waited to bring the girls over as soon as they had done their part returning donkey ears and angel wings to be stored until next year’s pageant.

Carrie had really been looking forward to this evening, but then a few days ago she took a chance at work, bet on a hunch, and she was right. _She was right._ And, as usual, being right meant that she had earned a place on the shit list at work. Dar had a brilliance for creating unpleasant, difficult and time-consuming tasks that required all her attention. The result was she had barely seen Franny all week, much less had a chance to prepare for this evening. 

Last night she’d driven out to a Home Depot that was open late and carried a sleeping Franny out to the back lot where she’d convinced (bullied) the clerks to pick out a tree for her and tie it to the top of her car. She’d grabbed a stand, lights, and boxes of ornaments, so that she had everything she needed. By 2 am she had got the tree up by herself and managed to string the lights, even though the branches were still clinging towards the trunk.

She was making some fucking Christmas memories for her family, despite Dar Fucking Adal. 

“What’s for dinner?” Maggie interrupted Carrie’s fantasy of giving Dar ECT. Without slowing the car, Carrie looked up the number of the local pizza place and called to order delivery.  
______

Pizza. Maggie thought of the turkey that she’d been soaking in brine for the past two days, the cake she pulled out of the oven before leaving for mass, the pie crust refrigerating and ready to roll out before the girls woke up tomorrow morning, the cheese biscuits she planned to finish late tonight, and the potatoes she would peel tomorrow while everyone else was napping. And then she let it all go. 

“The girls will love pizza. Can you order a half with mushrooms and peppers?” But Carrie responded to that by rolling her eyes as though Maggie has just made an unreasonable request, and Maggie snapped: “Or is that too much to ask?”

“Fuck you, Maggie.” 

“Is that how you want to talk in front of your daughter?” Maggie gestured to the back seat where Franny was clicked into her car seat. “Just because she’s preverbal doesn’t mean she isn’t learning by your example.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, ‘preverbal.’ More parenting advice from the Mother-of-the-Year. Cares for her own kids as well as her crazy sister’s.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Maggie. And you’re not the only one who can lecture. Dad wouldn’t want us to fight on our first Christmas without him.”

The only response Maggie could think of was silence, so she turned up the radio and they rode the rest of the way listening to Mariah’s one Christmas wish.

____

Carrie had come in and out of her door every day all December without ever thinking about a wreath, but of course, now, when it was too late, she suddenly noticed how bare her door looked. Fuck. Carrie swore under her breath, then realized she had decided to stop doing that when she was holding Franny, and swore some more in frustration. She rushed straight through the kitchen to plug the lights for the tree. 

Motherfucker.

The tree was visibly tilted, and somehow the white lights looked... ghostly. LED’s? She’d seen silvery lights outside on houses and trees, and they looked cool, but whatever Carrie had bought last night was positively eerie. Fuck.

“Looks great, Carrie.” 

Fucking Maggie. Carrie settled Franny in the Pac-N-Play and then began aggressively pulling boxes of ornaments out of the bags. Fuck. Was this box full of black and pink Christmas balls? Who wanted a black and pink color scheme for Christmas? 

“Carrie, it sounds as though your shower is on,” Maggie voice was faint as she headed upstairs.

What the fuck was wrong with her sister? So what if she left the shower dripping? Wait, was this box full of glittering green … pickle ornaments? How were dill pickles Christmasy?

And then Maggie started screaming.


	2. Chapter Two

“There’s a naked man in your shower!”

He was lying on the floor bleeding, as though he had collapsed.

Maggie’s emotions couldn’t settle on fear of the stranger or concern for him, but he must not have been completely passed out because he was suddenly awake and clearly panicking, trying to stand up but he kept slipping back down and bracing himself against the clear glass shower door. Bright red blood was coming from somewhere, enough to suggest a serious injury. What the fuck?

“Quinn! Thank God.” Carrie came rushing in behind her, running straight to him as he turned off the water, wrapping her arms around his dripping form. 

Well, Peter Quinn was back.

_________

“You’re wounded! Oh my God. Maggie, Oh my God, he’s been shot. Maggie, come look at this.”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Sorry I scared you, Maggie.”

Peter was clearly embarrassed by his nakedness, trying to reach around Carrie for a towel, but both Mathison sisters were now focused on the wound.

“You got shot?” Maggie took the towel Peter had wanted to cover himself, and instead Maggie used it to dry the area under his left arm so that she could see the lesion more clearly. She pulled out her phone and used the camera flash to give herself more light. “How? When did this happen? No wonder it’s bleeding, where did you have this treated? There is no exit wound. Were they able to extract the bullet? I’m surprised they discharged you. Goodness! This is incompetently stitched.”

“Thanks.” He sounded sarcastic, as though she just insulted him. “Yeah, the bullet is out. It’s not infected, so I’m good. Thanks.” This time he seemed sincere. “Carrie...” He gave her sister a meaningful look.

Carrie just glared back at him. “You should be at Walter Reed.” But then she sighed and ran her hands through her hair as she appealed to her sister, “Maggie, look, you can’t ask any questions or even know that Quinn arrived here like this. But I need you to tell me if he is OK or if he has to go to the hospital now.”

Quinn interrupted, “It’s FINE. I’ve been fine for two days since it happened. I got a shot of antibiotics. Look, if it gets worse, then I can go to the hospital.”

Carrie pointedly ignored him and looked at Maggie expectantly. 

“Well, he really should be on Morphine, but it doesn’t seem to be infected. He’s clearly lost a lot of blood, but as long as he takes it easy and you monitor him, he doesn’t seem to be in danger. It probably is better not to spend Christmas Eve in the hospital.”

“It’s Christmas Eve!? Fuck, Carrie. I didn’t mean to barge in on your Christmas.”

Who doesn’t know it’s Christmas? “Do you think you might have had a head injury, Peter?” Maggie asked.

“No. He’s just an idiot.” 

“Can I have that towel? Please?” He sounded annoyed.

Instead of responding to his request, the two Mathison sisters stared at naked Quinn for about 2 seconds without moving, which seemed like a long time. Then Maggie seemed to abruptly recall their situation. She stood up and turned away. “Where are your clothes, Peter?” 

“I threw them in the wash. Should be ready for the dryer now.” Carrie had handed Quinn the towel, but she was still just staring at him, clearly thinking.

“Do you have anything that would fit him, Carrie?”

“I’m not wearing that fucking ter–that guy’s clothes!” 

“I don’t have anything of Brody’s. We weren’t together that long.”

“Anything that escaped ‘the burning?’” asked Maggie sarcastically.

Quinn raised his eyebrows at Carrie.

“Fuck you both,” she responded to his unspoken question. “I burned David’s clothes. So what? I was angry. That’s not abnormal.”

“She had a bonfire in the bedroom.” Maggie’s words were accompanied by a serious look at Quinn.

He laughed, clearly more comfortable now that he had a towel wrapped around his waist. Maggie judged his color to be OK, so maybe he really wouldn’t need the hospital. “Thanks, Maggie, I know Carrie.”

“Hmm, well.” Maggie’s face remained skeptical. “I’ll go check on Franny and make sure everything’s ready for the girls, they should be here in about 15 minutes,” and with that, she left.  
_________

Not-entirely-naked-but-pretty-close Quinn stared at Carrie after her sister fled. His jaw twitched. This was not the plan. He knew she was just as likely to throw things at him as she was to throw her arms around him, but he had hoped that showing up inside her house unexpectedly would keep her unsettled and slightly flustered, ready to be swept off her feet. Instead, he felt foolish – vulnerable, wounded, naked, and really kind of desperate. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Fuck you, Quinn, You shouldn’t have _left._ I’ve been fucking worried about you every single minute.” 

“So, we’re fighting?” He was standing with his back against the door frame, looking into the bedroom, the moist air from the shower drifting into the room from the bathroom behind him. The shades were all drawn against the darkness outside, and the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over only part of the room. Carrie sat down in that circle of light and stared back at him. 

“Yes, you asshole. You were my best friend; you seduced me, and left me flat.”

Quinn frowned in confusion. “No, _**you**_ left.”

But Carrie didn’t even pause to listen to him. “For fuck’s sake. You couldn’t give me a day to sort out my shit without giving up on me? Like everyone else always has. I had _just_ buried my father. Hell, you gave me the reason, and the courage, to _finally_ confront the fact my mom abandoned me, and then right in the middle, you pull the same exact same disappearing act.”

“Shit, Carrie.”

“Jesus, I called you, like, two hours after our last conversation, and you – you were just fucking gone. I drove through the night straight to your place, and then showed up at Dar’s home yelling and screaming. He said you’d gone dark and that was it. Why?”

He just stared at her.

“I told you, Carrie, I needed your help. I practically begged you for it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He crossed over to the bed and sat down next to her. “My team needed me. I just couldn’t say ‘no’ to them. Not without a reason.”

Carrie was quiet for a minute, then she spoke slowly. “Duty. I get it. You’ve got skills like no one else.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly Quinn felt an enormous weight off his shoulders. _I get it._ “Jesus Christ, I’ve missed you.” The words were out before he could think. 

“You said you couldn’t get out alone. You were asking for my help, but I left.” Carrie’s face began to tense and tremble. “Oh God, Quinn, I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey,” He couldn’t look at her, but he captured her hands in his, “It’s thanks to you any of us made it out of Syria at all, you know. If Saul hadn’t changed his mind about extraction support, we might have been there for months, maybe more than a year.” He looked down at the floor. “Things could have gotten... really bad, Carrie.” He hated being a fucking complainer, but when he raised his eyes to meet hers, he felt genuinely understood.

“Don’t go back, Quinn.”

Quinn reached to her and cupped her face in his hands. His long fingers caught her tears. “Our timing just fucking sucked. _**I’m**_ sorry. You needed some space.”

“No, no. I needed you. I thought I needed to find out the truth about my parents, about why my mom left, but I needed _you_ more. I need you, now.” She reached for him and his hands were suddenly in her hair, her hands on his face, their kiss was immediately passionate and deep, lips parting and tongues meeting. She slid her hands around to his back and the feel of her fingers on his skin seemed to overwhelm everything else. 

_________

“I need you now.” She really did. Being next to him, naked, for the past few minutes was making her a bit desperate, but most of all she thought of all the nights she’d fallen asleep wondering what would have happened if she’d given over to her desire and had sex with him the night of her father’s funeral. 

At the time, she had felt proud and responsible – she was behaving like an adult, for once, nurturing a relationship that might really matter instead of getting herself off as soon as possible – a huge step towards accepting responsibility for Franny and becoming the person her Dad had seen in her. But that proved to be bullshit. She should have fucked him in the truck, at his hotel room, in her sister’s house, in her father’s bed, in the room where Franny was sleeping. It wouldn’t have mattered because sex would have allowed her to control the situation, and losing Quinn had been out of control. She wasn’t letting that happen again. They were doing it right now. 

She turned so that she was sitting on his lap, facing him. “Help me with my shirt” she begged as she unfastened her belt and tugged at her pants buttons. He had her shirt unbuttoned and was pulling it off of her in an instant, then he lay back and she shifted her weight on top of him so that she could wriggle out of her pants and underwear. Somehow her bra disappeared as well and she gasped at the relief of feeling his skin touching her so completely. 

“Carrie,” she pushed herself up and he caressed her face, holding her hair back so that he could look into her eyes. “What about Maggie and Franny? Didn’t she say the rest of her family will be here any minute? For Christmas?”

“So fuck me fast. We need this.”

He breathed a laugh and smiled wickedly. “Do you have a condom? I’ve got some in my bag on top of the fridge in the kitchen.”

Carrie’s confused frown transformed into a slightly pissed frown.

“They’re unloaded. And on top of the fridge where no one can reach.”

“Fuck. I don’t have any condoms, but I don’t have any STD’s.” 

“Me neither.” There was a pause while they both considered the options.

“What the fuck? Let’s risk it.” Carrie sat up tall, kneeling with her legs straddling Quinn’s torso. She grinned at him mischievously, raising her eyebrows in a suggestive challenge.

It worked. She saw him pause for a moment, then like a flash he rolled them over so that he was on top of her, kissing her face, her ear, her neck, her breasts while his hands stroked the sides of the body firmly. “Tell me what you like.” Both their hips rocked towards one another, and he moaned as his erection rubbed against her. Carrie pulled away his towel and wondered if he were as exhilarated by their recklessness as she was – he seemed to be. She used her hands to answer his question, and in minutes he was inside her, thrusting in earnest while his fingers rubbed her in just the right place. They didn’t stop when they heard Franny’s cries float up the stairs, and not when the doorbell rang a few minutes later followed by the sounds of laughter and chatter as Maggie’s family arrived. 

“Tell me when,” he growled. 

“I’m ready,” she gasped.

She wasn’t sure exactly what he did with his fingers at that moment, but she felt him jolt inside her just as she clenched around him and she had to stifle her scream into a soft sob. He rolled their bodies again so that he slipped out of her and he lay on his back, nestling her against his chest as they both worked to catch their breath. 

“Jesus, Quinn, your wound.”

He breathed a laugh. “It burns like a motherfucker, but I wasn’t thinking about it just then, so that’s helpful." He squeezed her tight and kissed her hair. "What happens now?” 

Carrie sat up with sudden energy, and she was struggling back into her clothes even as she crossed the room into the closet. A minute later she emerged with some large Georgetown sweatpants that she tossed to Quinn. 

“Come downstairs and spend Christmas Eve with my family. And then stay? We can go to Maggie’s tomorrow for Christmas dinner, but spend the rest of the day here together.” Carrie did her best to seem attractive and not pathetic, begging.

“I feel like an intruder. Will you open presents?”

“No, that’s Christmas morning. You’ve spent too much time overseas. Tonight we have dinner and hang the stockings – just pizza and Franny’s stocking. The girls are going to put the ornaments on the tree.” Carrie emerged from the closet again, almost fully dressed and holding a large black T-shirt which she threw towards the bed. “The tree is fucking wobbly. Maybe you can get it stable?”

“I don’t know anything about Christmas trees.”

”It’s not like knowing all the words to ‘Good King Wenceslas.’ You can just figure it out. My family already understand that I’m crazy with a ridiculous job. You'll fit in fine as part of that package.”

He sighed. “I suppose the only way I can see Franny right now is to face them all?” 

“It will be fine.”

The two of them headed downstairs.  
_________

It was fine, thought Maggie. The evening had been fun and relaxing. Carrie was so happy, Maggie felt full of happiness for her. And, she liked Peter. First of all, he seemed like a kind person, who generally cared for Carrie and for Franny. Second of all, he wasn’t currently married. She had asked, and was deeply relieved by his answer. So, Maggie was determined to be pleased, even if she did worry about how Peter had disappeared after the funeral. 

The third thing about Peter was, after seeing him naked, Maggie thought he just might keep her insatiable sister happy, but really, she should probably just forget about the third thing entirely. None of her business. 

The pizza was delicious, and Carrie pulled out a pumpkin pie she had bought at a bakery earlier which was surprisingly tasty. Maggie decided that one pumpkin pie as part of the Christmas celebration was plenty. Dessert tomorrow night would be the cake she’d already made, dusted with snow-like powdered sugar and a sprig of holly, rather than the elaborate frosted decorations she’d planned. Those decisions meant she could sleep in the morning, instead of waking early to bake. Hell, she might even leave the skins on the mashed potatoes, country style. She was really looking forward to tomorrow, and began to feel as impatient as the girls to get them in bed and start putting out Santa’s presents. The tree was decorated and her angel and donkey were getting tired. Peter was already snoring on the couch. 

They didn’t wake him up to say goodbye; he’d be at her house tomorrow. She wondered about changing the tag on one of Bill’s new sweaters to give to Quinn. She had too many gifts for Bill anyway. The girls were excitedly hugging their aunt and affectionately kissing their cousin. Bill gave Carrie a hug, and then her sister turned to her.

“Hey Carrie, these paper napkins are beautiful, and you’ve got a lot left over. Can I take them to use on the table for Christmas dinner?” That way she wouldn’t have to wash and iron the linen napkins handed down from her grandmother. She could just use one spread out as a decoration.

“Of course.” Carrie wrapped her in a big hug and Maggie squeezed her little sister tight. “Oh, Maggie, I love you so fucking much.” Carrie was starting to sob a little bit, too. “I’m so lucky to have you as a sister.”

“We’re lucky to have each other.” Maggie returned Carrie’s fierce hug with a force of her own. “I love you, too, Sis. You’re a great mother. Dad would be proud.”

That produced a huge smile on Carrie’s face, and even more tears. Maggie fought the urge to inquire about Carrie’s medicines in the midst of tonight’s emotional reunion and all the difficulties she seemed to be having at work. She kissed her sister on the cheek and headed out to join her family in the car.  
_________

Quinn wasn’t sure where he was when he woke, but he immediately felt calm. That’s because there was a calm presence, a baby, sleeping on his chest. Franny. And his head was on Carrie’s lap. He had fallen asleep after pumpkin pie, and now he was sleeping on the couch, with his head in Carrie’s lap and Franny on his chest. Comfort and Joy indeed. 

“Hey,” Carrie smiled down at him. He couldn’t fucking believe it. “You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours,” she said.

“What time is it?”

“Just after midnight. It’s snowing outside.”

“A white Christmas, in Virginia? It’s a fucking Christmas miracle.”

“Yeah, and my one wish came true, so we really are living in an annoying song.”

Quinn laughed, leaving Carrie marveling at his dimples. He pulled her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “This really has been the most perfect Christmas Eve I think I’ve ever had.”

“Excellent,” Carrie chuckled. “One reason we’ll do well together is because the bar is so low. I mean, a five-minute fuck and a pizza sure beat getting drunk alone on an airforce base.”

“Yeah, well, getting smashed and then getting into a huge fight is pretty much my Christmas tradition, so, this is tons better. Besides, that pizza was delicious and that fuck was excellent. Maybe even… memorable” He grinned up at her. And, it was really just the beginning.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. A warm-up. Foreplay. You’ll see. We are going to do well together.”

“Thanks for having such confidence in me." She ran her fingers through his hair. "I mean it. I need that.”

“I’m counting on that – for you to need me more than fucking Dar does. You know, Carrie for a long time, after we first got to Syria, I kept trying to figure out what your tactical angle was in trying to keep Haqqani alive.”

“And?”

“For the past few days, I’ve been thinking that maybe I’m going at the question wrong. Maybe it wasn’t about Haqqani.”

“You’d make a fucking brilliant analyst.”

Quinn’s voice was very low. “There are lots of people who believe your life is worth more than capturing Haqqani, Carrie, but that’s my job, my purpose: to give my life to get the bad guys.” He was almost whispering. 

“I’m a fuck-up, Quinn, but you better believe that I need you more than anyone else out in that field. Keep asking yourself: why I was standing on your bomb?”

“It meant a lot.”

“Yeah, I could tell. You seemed really moved.”

He smiled at the memory. “Good times.”

That made her laugh out loud. “I’ve been thinking, too. Trying to figure out why you get so angry at me sometimes, but other times you’ve got my back no matter what.” Carrie stroked his hair away from his face. “You really should be running for the hills, you know.”

“Oh, I know, Carrie. I know, but I’m right here.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, we are a lot alike, don't you think?”

“Maybe too much alike to be together?”

“How on earth does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t. Merry Christmas, Quinn.”

“Merry Christmas, Carrie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @PincushionProtea for beta reading and suggestions!


End file.
